


Memories of Him

by QueerEldritchSoda



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ? - Freeform, Character Death, Everyone is Dead, Future Fic, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, also told from dream xd's pov so, except for dream xd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerEldritchSoda/pseuds/QueerEldritchSoda
Summary: “What… who are you?”Its cracked face, if it could be called that, seemed to smile. “I am what they... used to call a god.” It gave a short chuckle that sounded like a dead tree finally cracking and splintering after years of strain.“Why are you here?” you asked.“I’m trapped. The memories… they keep me here. If I could leave, I would in an instant. I wouldn’t look back, I’d never think about this place again.”“This place… what happened here?”The god smiled again. This was going to be a very, very long story.-----------Dream XD has been alone for centuries now. He knew it would be bad, having everything taken from him, everything slowly fading away, but this was far worse than he could have imagined. When the opportunity comes to tell his story, he doesn't pass it up.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dream XD/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Memories of Him

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had a really fun time writing this. I still haven't seen the SMP, but I know a lot more about it now and love one(1) godly simp. Next chapters will include the mushroom man <3

You held your breath as you walked onto the ruined ground. Your footsteps echoed, almost in time with the wind. The only two sounds in the world, it seemed in that moment. 

You looked around at the burnt, crumbling stone and wood, gazing at the beautiful pictures and tattered banners. The houses were large, or what was left of them. The ancient builds were beautiful, delicately placed and elegantly put together. Small statues littered the dead grass and buildings that had to be more than average homes were scattered abundantly throughout. You had no set task this time around, so you took your time studying the walls and roads of the time before. Mostly dried up lakes and rivers wound around the intricately built area, making everything seem more united. There were some obvious divides and barriers, and one place you could tell was a prison, but you couldn’t find a way in, even with the run down walls, but you didn’t feel drawn to any of the ruined architecture as you usually would. 

Instead, you found your way to the back of an old portal and walking through a patch of forest, seemingly away from the ghosts of past lives and the secrets they could tell you. The trees were gorgeous, tall and sturdy, with plentiful homes for creatures and beautiful blooming foliage. You would love to come out here one day and relax a bit, maybe read a book or take a nap. But the time wasn’t quite right. 

The wood fell away to reveal hills and mountains in the distance, and a simple house built partially underground. You stepped gingerly across the decaying bridge and to the house made of… mushrooms? A surprise it hadn’t turned to compost yet.

It was getting dark, and you needed a place to stay for the night, and this was as good a shelter as any with the roof still intact. You knocked on the door once before pushing it in with your shoulder; it was heavier than it looked. It was dark, and wet in some places, but it looked homely enough. You set a fire in the obvious fireplace and sighed with contentment as you set up your supplies for the night. To your surprise, there was a rocking chair already by the fire, and in perfect condition, it looked like. You settled into it, deciding that it was clean enough, and pulled out one of your journals and a pen, jotting down your thoughts from the day. Why did you feel more drawn to this house than the rest? The other buildings had far more history, you were sure. But this place just felt _right_. You might even come back here to stay another night.

A creaking floorboard interrupted your frantic scribbling and your head jerked up. There was no one there, you made sure of that before deciding to stay. You couldn't see anyone, so you slowly descended back to writing, listening more intently this time. There was another sound from behind you, and you whipped around, expecting to see some forest creature that had taken residence in the house, but there was nothing but empty space. A cough came from where you were originally facing and you whipped around a third time, even faster. 

There was a figure standing there this time. Well, standing wasn’t the right word. It floated slightly above the floor as if it was trying to imitate casually standing but undeniably failing and making it seem even more inhuman to its already monstrous form. It reminded you of the angels you’ve seen depicted but not worshipped, with its horrible floating head and numerous wings, more hidden under its cloaked body. You should’ve run, but your bag was behind it and you needed the research in there. 

You were thinking of ways to get around it when it stuck two of its hands out in a reassuring manner. “No… it’s ok…” it creaked. The voice that came out of its unmoving mouth sounded like it hadn’t been used in a long, long time, but you could tell that it used to be beautiful, like warm rays of the sun peeking through the clouds on a cold day. You could imagine that it could be menacing and sharp, striking fear into the heart of anyone that heard it. You could also imagine it could be the softest blanket of warmth, wrapping and twisting around you like a mother swaddling her newborn babe in robes of silk.  
It sat down, or did its best to mimic sitting, in front of the fireplace, gesturing that you should sit back in the chair. You did as asked, but stayed tense and ready to run at the slightest hint of hostility. 

It didn’t speak but sat patiently, seemingly waiting for you to ask something. You didn’t have the faintest idea what it wanted, but you tried with “What… who are you?”

Its cracked face, if it could be called that, seemed to smile. “I am what they... _used_ to call a god.” It gave a short chuckle that sounded like a dead tree finally cracking and splintering after years of strain. It looked like it wanted to say more, but was holding back its words. Possibly for your sake. 

“Why are you here?” you asked. You had relaxed a little and were a bit intrigued, but still sat warily. If this thing said it was a god, there’s no telling what it could do if you didn’t do exactly what it wanted. 

“I’m trapped.” It looked out the filthy window at the rising moon and sighed. “The memories… they keep me here. If I could leave, I would in an instant. I wouldn’t look back, I’d never think about this place again. It’s hell, you know.” It looked directly at you this time, waiting for another question. 

“This place… what happened here?” You gestured vaguely at the old home. “It’s not the rest of the area, it’s here,” you called back to your strange reaction towards this building in particular. 

The god smiled again. This was going to be a very, very long story. 


End file.
